


Tall

by captainkallus



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Past Character Death, dealing with kanan's death, death off screen, in fact both of them do, kalluzeb - Freeform, kinda happy ending, set during a fool's hope, zeb really really needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 20:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkallus/pseuds/captainkallus
Summary: Garazeb Orrelios is a tall man.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Tall

Garazeb Orrelios is a tall man. 

Maybe not quite as tall as his brothers were, but tall compared to everyone around him. Standing at nearly seven standard feet when he isn’t purposely slouching, he fills a room meant for smaller beings with ease and commands any situation he wants to. Being this tall means he can decide what parts of his face anyone shorter gets to see. If he wants to, they don’t even get to see his ears, a telltale sign of his moods. When his eyes are filled with grief, he can easily avert them from any others without making it obvious. His eyes are filled with grief now. 

Alexsandr Kallus is also a tall man.

Not quite as tall as his closest friend, but not far behind. Tall enough where he feels powerful when he straightens his back in the Imperial posture that was beaten into him, where he feels dwarfed only in the presence of certain other species. Tall enough to see his tallest friend's eyes, even when he doesn't want anyone to. Tall enough to see his ears flick in discomfort when they've been standing in this crowd for too long, weapons still at the ready, and tall enough to see them flatten when Ryder mentions Jarrus’s name. 

The news of Kanan’s death hit Rebel Command hard, but Alexsandr harder. Even though he was nowhere near when it happened, it was difficult not to feel some type of guilt over it. Perhaps that was just how he was built, always prone to blaming himself for things out of his control. He even felt guilty for feeling guilt. It wasn’t like Kanan was his loss to feel, but he felt it anyway. He was getting better at forgiving himself, letting himself feel the things he does without self-scrutiny, but all this was still so new to him. All this Rebellion junk, hope for a better day, everything that gave the rebels spirit still confused him from time to time. But he was getting better at it.

He’s looking at his slightly taller friend now, the way his eyebrows narrow and his ears twitch in anger while they stand here, armed, Pryce in binders not ten feet away in the little cave the crew had been inhabiting for the past month or so. Alexsandr shifts, and it catches Zeb’s attention immediately, the Lasat whipping around so fast to face him it almost makes him nervous. But Zeb never makes him nervous, not anymore.

Zeb is staring now, green eyes meeting gold. Alexsandr allows himself to be as open as he possibly can in this moment, even trying to smile at his old friend, but it feels wrong. Zeb is frowning, his eyes cold and full of a sorrow he clearly hasn't gotten to speak of. And Alexsandr understands why, of course. Hera would be in shambles. Ezra without a father, and the same for Sabine. Garazeb had to pull the weight he’d been so terrified of taking on again for all these years. The ones he loved depending on him, depending on his strength. Just like the Honor Guard. The bo-rifle he clutches becomes as obvious to Alexsandr as ever now, the age, the rust despite it being well kept. The way the wraps have yellowed and faded, fraying, and Alexsandr longs to know what they mean. What all of it means. He glances back up and meets Zeb’s eyes. Something unspoken runs between them as Zeb shifts to look at Hera, who nods. He places his weapon on his back and beckons for Alexsandr to follow. 

Alexsandr slips his blaster back into its holster on his thigh and shadows him wordlessly, knowing he'd follow Zeb to the ends of the galaxy if he asked. They walk, past the cave and to a small outcropping, where the so-far untouched plains of Lothal wave back at them in the cool wind. It's so beautiful that Alexsandr almost forgets what they're doing, and Zeb is so caught up in the fact that the plains are the same color as his friend’s eyes (How had he never noticed that before?) that for a moment he forgets all the things holding him down. If he could just stay here, in the gentle breeze and warmth of twin suns, alone except for the one person who somehow knows him best, the one person who has seen him like no other. Ezra is too young to get it, no matter how old he gets, Sabine too dear to his heart to ever truly explain it and burden her. Hera is close, but she can never truly put her feet in his shoes. What it means to be a warrior. But Alexsandr understands.

He understands now as he turns back to Zeb and gazes longingly at him, reaching out for his hand before he even realizes he's committing the act. Breaking the wall they had so carefully built between them. To keep things as they were, to preserve the gentle balance, between destructor and victim, between the forgiven and the one who offered it. Forgiveness. It was a foreign concept to Alexsandr, one he received from others far more than he did himself. But he was getting better at it. His eyes meet Zeb’s as his fingers wrap around one of his friend’s larger ones, and Zeb rearranges their hands so fast Alexsandr can’t believe it's happening until he’s being held, pulled into an embrace, a chin on the top of his head. It’s more intimate than anything he’s felt in years: maybe because he actually feels something this time. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He whispers into the softest purple neck on this side of the galaxy, the words feeling hollow on his lips. Zeb inhales sharply and Alexsandr feels the cold wetness of tears on his scalp before he hears any indication at all from Zeb. 

“There was nothing you could've done.” Zeb finally manages, keeping his voice steady and his chin firmly on Alexsandr’s head.

“I could’ve been there for you.” Alexsandr mumbles, fully aware that his friend wasn’t yet ready for anyone, even him, to see him in such a state. He stays where he is, arms wrapped around Zeb’s body as it barely moves at all with his crying. With a heartbroken sigh, he wonders how often Zeb has cried silently and alone on the Ghost. He was very good at it. 

“You’re here for me now.” The Lasat breathes, allowing more emotion into his voice than Alexsandr has possibly ever heard from him. From anyone, really. When was the last time anybody trusted their emotions to Agent Kallus?

Large hands wrap even tighter around Alexsandr’s body, pulling him impossibly closer into the embrace. He shifts his head so he could lay it against Zeb, eyes staring out into the grasslands surrounding them. Without meaning to, he starts to cry, too, tears rolling down his cheeks before he realizes what’s happening. He’s less skilled at being silent than Zeb, and it isn’t long before Zeb is pulling back, their eyes meeting once more. Alexsandr feels guilty for crying. He’s ruined the moment for Zeb, broken the atmosphere so carefully put into place. The taller man clearly never gets to cry in the comfort of another, and he’s totally blown this by getting overwhelmed. So overwhelmed, in fact, that he doesn’t notice Zeb is chuckling half-heartedly at him. 

“What?”

“That brain is running at a million miles an hour. Slow it down for me, will ya?” A ghost of a smile appears on his lips before fading into a look of pure fondness, and Alexsandr realizes that it is okay. Maybe not as okay as usual, but still, in its own way, okay. Garazeb removes one hand from his body to push some of his hair aside, pressing his lips to his forehead slowly and with purpose. 

“I appreciate you being here.” He says softly, bringing Alexsandr’s never-resting mind to a halt. Because maybe that is all he needs, someone to be there. Someone on the outside, even just a little, someone he can trust. Alexsandr can be that.

“I will always be here.” Alexsandr returns, lips tugging into a gentle smile as he meets Zeb’s eyes once again, the eyes he’s kept hidden from everyone else. Zeb presses his forehead against his, then his nose, then a wisp of his lips before pulling Alexsandr into another bone-crushing hug. _Yes_ , he thinks blearily, lips once again meeting Zeb’s neck. _I can do that._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! check out my other works on here if u liked <3 you can also find me on twitter @captainkallus!!


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